Clash
by LuvEwan
Summary: A disagreement between Master and apprentice. COMPLETE.


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Clash

Written By LuvEwan

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A serious disagreement between Master and Padawan. Pre-TPM. Completed.

PG-13

In response to an evil challenge posed to me by **JadeSolo** at the Obi-Wan Workshop, in which I was to write Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon angry with each other. Because apparently, I have a reputation for writing the opposite. Yeah, I know, she's crazy.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

"Master, I do not think this is a good idea."

Qui-Gon ignored the strained tone of his apprentice's voice, and focused instead on seeing through the dense fog that coiled around them in tendrils. Alien worlds tended to unleash their most 'unique' qualities under a black sky, the seasoned Master had found. Through a veil of night, dead cities came to sinful, sinuous life, sleeping creatures woke with sculpted fangs and ravenous appetites.

And, it seemed, at least on the planet Panikit, his student's personality had split in two.

__

The kinder, gentler side must be dormant. Qui-Gon grumbled inwardly, pushing at a milky cloud that swirled in front of him. It continued to float in shredded spirals.

Obi-Wan huffed, a half second away from whipping out his saber and channeling his frustration to the gray mist that flexed and thickened around his form. He knew he was compelled by the Code, and usually his own sense of reverence, to concede to his Master's rulings.

But sometimes, instinct overwhelmed all else. What began as an intrinsic clash with Qui-Gon's decision was fast developing into blood boiling anger. "Master, I--"

"I am well aware of your stance on this issue, Padawan." Qui-Gon replied, words clean and clipped. "You need not drive it into my skull."

Obi-Wan's jaw set, the smooth curve of his cheekbone tightening. He wished he could talk to the man's face, instead of to his broad back, almost entirely concealed in the drifting fog. "I'm not trying to, I just--"

The towering Master actually stopped in his tracks and straightened before turning to look at his pupil through the viscous curtain between them--a separating force that could not dampen the irritation razored in Qui-Gon's voice. "Obi-Wan, you are a very capable apprentice. You've always been finely conscious of the line between voicing a disagreement with my methods…and rebellion."

Obi-Wan's breath was grinding in his lungs, but he remained silent, crackling blue flames held only tenuously at bay within his eyes.

"I have very rarely felt the need to call rank upon you." Qui-Gon took a step forward. His proud features were strangely illuminated in the moon's glow, and shadow lay deep at the structuring lines of his face. "But I don't have a problem doing it. _You _are the apprentice and _I _am the Master. I have the leverage to make the vital choices in a mission. You are allowed to oppose them, as is your natural right.

"But in the end, I will do what _I _believe is right. It is your place, as a Padawan learner, to walk that same course."

Obi-Wan stared up at the simmering countenance of his teacher, a million scathing replies clustered in his chest, screaming to rise to his throat. But in the end, he said nothing, and after a tense moment, Qui-Gon returned to their trek.

The young man waited a handful of seconds before he did the same, so that there was a considerable gap between them.

Obi-Wan's mind spun at a dizzying speed, replaying every word.

__

'But in the end, I will do what I_ believe is right.'_

He swallowed hard and thrust through another layer of haze. The Council had dispatched them to the grimy world of Panikit to investigate the selling of illegal drugs in the slum areas. That in itself was not out of the ordinary. Spice was a desired evil among the well-endowed and the poverty stricken. Something that transcended all class and caste systems. Alone, it was not a case to be handled by Jedi.

The difference with the drugs produced on Panikit was that rumors were circulating that the strong narcotics were being added to a pricey cocktail that could possibly limit, or even strangle, Force usage of its victim.

Upon their arrival, Obi-Wan was greatly displeased to discover that their main contact on Panikit was he himself a former drug dealer, a bedraggled young man named Krillian, who didn't seem as redeemed from his past vocation as he boasted.

Three days into their assignment, Krillian's cover among the other traffickers was blown. The man was prepared for such an ordeal, warning Qui-Gon that he would probably be taken to one of the aged factories that were used to dissolve rotten batches.

Obi-Wan was sure his Master would defer to the Panikit authorities, and do his best to move forward with the mission. But instead, here they were, in the middle of the night, locating said factory, risking paralysis of the Force if they slipped.

Surely Obi-Wan could convince Qui-Gon that this was a dangerous, _foolish _plan! What did it matter that he was lower in title? Didn't he still have a functioning brain? A faculty that he was seriously doubting had been granted his Master, at the present time.

His heart stung from the stark, unyielding reaction Qui-Gon had shown, but emotion could be pushed aside. Hells, this was life and _death_!

"This _isn't _right." Obi-Wan said slowly, carefully--and with a measure of revolt.

Qui-Gon wheeled around and stalked through the gathered mists that fled in gray vapor from him.

But Obi-Wan did not flee, nor did he apologize for brooking what had been a settled issue. He was firm in his footing, unmoving.

"Beating a dead gundark will do nothing but garner you censure when we return to Coruscant." Qui-Gon coolly admonished. "It would embarrass you, not to mention me, for such action to be taken. Especially on a senior apprentice. One would think you'd have learned better by now, Obi-Wan. After all, you are not a child."

Obi-Wan appeared unaffected. "No, I'm not a child. But it seems you have deemed it acceptable to continue treating me as one."

The sky was a starless pall above them. Qui-Gon closed the already meager space between he and his apprentice, until the width of a breath would have been cramped. His eyes bore into Obi-Wan's. "I treat you in accordance with how you behave. When you throw tantrums, it is difficult to see you as anything else."

"Is that how you perceive this?" The Padawan wondered incredulously. "A tantrum thrown because I'm not getting my way?"

Qui-Gon backed off an inch, to cross his arms over his chest. "How would _you _perceive it?"

No hesitation. "An entreaty."

"For what?"

Obi-Wan met eyes once more with Qui-Gon, and he didn't blink. It was blue warring green. "For you to slow down long enough to realize that this rescue is a mistake."

"You think I'm running hastily into a dangerous situation?" The older Jedi asked.

Guardedly, Obi-Wan answered, "Yes."

The ensuing silence lasted a grim eternity, allowing the minstrels of string-legged insects to lift into the stale atmosphere.

Then, at last, Qui-Gon wet his lips, a moist, low sound. "You believe I would put my life, your life, in serious peril without thinking it through?"

"You're twisting my words." Obi-Wan shot back. "You know it isn't that simple."

"What else, Obi-Wan? You don't think I have the mental capacity to weigh the consequences of this rescue?"

"No. Of course not."

Qui-Gon's tone did not soften. "Then _what_?"

The young Jedi gulped down any trace of intimidation. "I think you're blinded by a…by a compulsion to _be _the one to do the rescuing. To fix things that may be beyond your ability to fix."

"You put this under that category?" Qui-Gon's finger rested above his lip.

"Yes. I do."

"Very well, Obi-Wan. If you want to think that I am merely satisfying a 'compulsion', as you say, that is your prerogative. One that I do not share." A clot of fog passed over Qui-Gon's stern face. "We _will _continue with this rescue. And I don't want to hear another word from you, protesting or otherwise, for the remainder of the night."

Obi-Wan surged to life again. "That--"

Qui-Gon held up a hand. "Every word you utter will be taken as an insurrection of my orders as a Master and will result in an extra hour of meditation. Do you understand?"

The rage needled up Obi-Wan's spine, soaked through bone and sinew, but he nodded.

Qui-Gon paused, perhaps to let the echo of his command die down, then walked on.

Obi-Wan took a breath and glanced around . His heart was hammering, crushing the lungs shielding it, leaving him open, totally vulnerable to the intense moment. Which was what he needed to be.

"Don't go, Master."

It was true he wasn't a child, but there were elements of youthful tenderness in Obi-Wan that lingered to his adulthood. His eyes kindled the faintest light of innocence, seen through the weathered warrior and hardening Jedi he had become.

Qui-Gon heard that subtle radiance in Obi-Wan's voice, but it was galvanized, dominated by the deep, accented inflection. His apprentice wasn't pleading with him, wasn't throwing down his weapons and crashing to his knees.

At the surface, that was a good thing. Qui-Gon had not taught him to be passive.

But he had not taught him to seek control of situations best left to superiors of the Order, either. "My warnings are not superficial, Padawan." He called over his shoulder. "Three hours."

Obi-Wan watched the man walk on, then halted his own steps. "Neither are mine."

Qui-Gon's shoulders heaved in a sigh and he turned, the ends of his cloak rippling in the slight wind. "Six."

At that instant, Obi-Wan threw out any semblance of composure. "Double it. _Triple _it. I. Don't. Care."

"Fine. Is it savory for you to be put before the Council for reprimand? Is that what I must do with you, Obi-Wan?"

"If that's what it takes, then _hell yes._"

The slap was hard, resounding sharply in the night, leaving severe red marks down Obi-Wan's ivory skin. His hand would have gone immediately to the spot of throbbing pain, but he was resigned to his position. "And if _this _is what it takes, then by all means, Master, continue."

For the slimmest of seconds, Qui-Gon's eyes strayed to the marked cheek, but they returned to their original focus quickly. "Your rebellion does not change the rules, Obi-Wan. It doesn't change _the Code_. When it comes down to it, we are _not _equals. Not yet. And definitely not now."

"Regardless, you _know _my sensitivity to prescience is stronger than yours. Rank shouldn't come into play at all."

"I trust your feelings, Obi-Wan. I would be a fool not to. But under these circumstances, I choose to trust my own. Now, I don't want another whisper of a _syllable _to leave your lips. We are approaching the factory and we need our presence to be dampened."

Obi-Wan's stomach was coiled in on itself. Acid churned in his throat. He could not recall in recent memory a sensation that could match the current uproar in his soul. "NO."

He expected an explosion, but instead, Qui-Gon's brow was stretched in a cold line over his eyes, betraying none of the fuming ire that may have been welling within him. "Very well. I see that we'll get nowhere going in circles all damn night.

"If your disagreement is really so enduring, then don't come with me."

Obi-Wan blinked. "What?"

"Don't come with me. Stay here, perhaps behind a bush, and wait for my return." The emerald eyes flashed with hostility. "Better still, why don't you turn back, and start toward the ship? Because it's obvious that you are opposed to the mission, and I don't care to listen to any more of this during the coming investigation."

Obi-Wan held his lips tight.

"While you're there, you can test your incredible gift for prophecy and predict just how large your punishment will be. But then, you're above my censure, aren't you?"

This time, Obi-Wan sealed his eyes and inhaled. "What if it's an ambush? I see the strangeness in Krillian's eyes. What if he hasn't reformed?"

"Then I'll find out when I enter the factory, and defend myself to the best of my ability."

Obi-Wan was infuriated by the entire situation, but that did not extinguish the kinship he shared with the man. "I would not leave you to face that alone." He said quietly.

"But you would leave our contact there to die." Qui-Gon countered.

Obi-Wan glared at him. "I don't wish for that to happen. But you can't rule out the possibility that he has been corrupted."

"Nor can I rule out the possibility that he's still a man who put himself in harm's way to aid our mission." The Master looked out at the fogged horizon. "The ship awaits you, Obi-Wan." He said flatly. "Now go."

Obi-Wan was quiet for a beat, then "Perhaps you _want _me to leave. To start towards the ship."

Qui-Gon raised a brow, but said nothing.

Knowing he had at least his momentary attention, Obi-Wan lurched forward in his tirade. "And then, when the danger _did_ come, I could come running back to you, like the child you apparently don't want me to be. Because if I stay a child, you can label my opposition as another tantrum and override me without thought.

"As long as I'm a child, _Master_, you can't be challenged by me. Your word cannot come into question."

Qui-Gon's nostril's flared. "You tread dangerous ground, Obi-Wan."

"And I won't tread it lightly, Qui-Gon." He answered. "If the Force is taken from you, from us, in there, what good will we be?"

"Is the Force your crutch, Obi-Wan? Without it, will you tumble to the ground, helpless?"

Obi-Wan's face was composed of stone. "Do you think I will?"

The question hung in suspense until Qui-Gon blew out a breath. "There isn't time for this."

The miasma shifted around them restlessly. Obi-Wan chopped through it with his hand, struggling to see the other man.

When his face was revealed to Qui-Gon, the flush had faded. A new anger was contained in Obi-Wan, the kind that drained the blood from his exterior, but was somehow all the more disturbing in its pallid stillness.

"I can't let you go in there."

Qui-Gon studied the rigidity of Obi-Wan's jaw line, the sharp slivers of steel glinting in his eyes. "This is the last time I will say this, Padawan.

"It _isn't _your choice."

Obi-Wan's smile was sadly ironic, with evident accusation. "Seems I'm helpless after all."

The Master looked down at his apprentice. "Go back, Obi-Wan. If your heart is not with a mission, you should not involve yourself. Besides, you are obviously unfocused. That greatly increases the risk to you."

"And are you focused, Master?"

"Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps your risk is greater just standing here. Digging yourself deeper." Qui-Gon motioned with his head toward the distance stretched out behind them. "Go to the ship, Obi-Wan. If you disobey me now, the consequence will be enormous."

Obi-Wan had to use a significant amount of energy to keep from flinching at the painful hitch in his chest. "You're ordering me to abandon you?"

"No, Obi-Wan. You did that yourself." Qui-Gon turned with a shrill scrape on his heel.

Obi-Wan was struck immobile by the words. But, slowly, it was the shock and anger that fueled him. He ran through the ethereal tangle of mist, hardly knowing where his next step would take him. And at the moment, not caring.

Then, his eyes widened, as a solid slab connected with his chest. He had felt it before.

Forewarning.

Obi-Wan veered to face the path his Master had taken. "No." He gasped.

The factory was a crumbled square. Unguarded.

Which meant that it was most likely the holding place for Krillian.

Qui-Gon fought through the gray with more fervor than he usually displayed. His argument with Obi-Wan surpassed any other they had engaged in. They were familiar with each other's tempers, of course, but never had they been sparked to such a fiery degree.

When the young man cooled down, they would straighten everything out. And Qui-Gon would decide just what ramifications there would be for Obi-Wan's actions.

For now, he directed his gaze, inwardly and outwardly, to the task at hand.

But that lasted mere seconds, for the ruddy old Pedikin factory was transformed to a huge conflagration, thanks to a blast that rumbled the very earth, and sent debris soaring through the sky.

Brilliant orange and crimson ignited in the black.

Obi-Wan siphoned his entire strength to his legs, pumping, running toward where he knew his Master must be.

The roar and crackle of the explosion stole his words, his very breath. And his balance, as he was thrown to the ground.

Atop his Master.

Stunned by the whirlwind of events and emotion, it took Obi-Wan a few minutes to register what had occurred, and ascertain that his Master was alive.

Then the Padawan backed away, sitting up, braced by his hands. "Are you alright?" He panted.

Qui-Gon rolled over and wiped the grit from his face. "Yes."

Obi-Wan saw the flames shooting up from the blackening wreckage. He shook his head, blood snaking from a small wound at his temple. "You bastard."

A day later, in the gutted remains of the factory, Master and Padawan stood, some distance apart.

The cause of the blast was ruled as accidental, though only technically. Not much had been revealed as of yet, but so far authorities had pieced together the process of dissolving the defective drugs had taken a sour turn, resulting in a violent chemical reaction.

There were at least twelve bodies discovered among the blackened ruins. Including the Jedi contact, Krillian.

It would never be known who the man betrayed: if his loyalty fell inexorably to his criminal cohorts, or if he was truly a prisoner left to a grisly, undeserving end. But it seemed that was Krillian's destiny. For if Qui-Gon had reached the factory on schedule, he would have been counted among the dead.

Perhaps the Master had been right about Krillian. Perhaps not. Either way, it hardly mattered now.

Qui-Gon glanced at his apprentice, who was surveying a melted tub that housed the Force-limiting spice. The young man had not spoken to him since his breathless curse that night. But wasn't that what Qui-Gon had wanted? Silence?

Obi-Wan swallowed, gathering oxygen through his mouth to ward off the stale, burnt smell of ash and charred flesh. He had obeyed his Master in one respect: he would not utter another word. Frankly, he was sick of being put in his place and reminded of his inferiority.

As Qui-Gon had said, you shouldn't beat a dead gundark.

"Forfeit your little demonstration." The man said, echoing in the hollow shell. Obi-Wan looked up at him, and their weary eyes locked. "I know what you want to say to me."

Obi-Wan inhaled, standing up a little straighter. But his lips didn't part to sate his Master's request.

Qui-Gon smiled and shook his head. "You believe yourself a martyr, Obi-Wan. In this case, your foretelling was correct. At least about the danger. So I will not deny you your chance to say 'I told you so.' It can be the little victory you look back upon while undergoing your punishment."

Obi-Wan stared at him a fleeting moment, then started toward what was left of the door.

"You don't have permission to go." When Qui-Gon's reminder had no effect, "OBI-WAN!"

It was a jarring thunder, and Obi-Wan turned around, his robe sweeping the dust.

Qui-Gon cemented his hands to his hips. "I will not abide this behavior any further, Padawan. You don't have permission to ignore me and you don't have permission to leave."

"You wouldn't listen to what I had to say." Obi-Wan murmured. "You shot me down like an ill-informed initiate."

"I will not apologize for what was warranted."

"WHY was it warranted?!" Obi-Wan shouted, hands fisted. "WHY was it alright to ignore my feelings about the rescue?! And don't give me any more garbage about Masters and Padawans."

Qui-Gon grasped Obi-Wan's shoulders. "Don't get carried away and start saying things you'll regret later."

"You've always taught me to seek the truth." Obi-Wan's voice was rimed with ice. "And not to regret it."

Qui-Gon released him, but didn't back away. "This isn't truth-seeking we speak of, Padawan. It is _insolence_. I sure as hells never taught you that."

"What?" Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed in genuine surprise. "You never taught me that? The famed 'rogue' Master of the Jedi never taught his apprentice to defy orders? Was I to look the other way every time you were called before the Council for that defiance?"

"There is a difference, Obi-Wan. And it is not your place to question my authority."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, and he saw what had nearly been, he felt his Master's life force obliterate. He opened them again. "Because your defiance is the only kind that can be justified? Only you can jump into the flames when others are screaming for you to stop? It isn't _my place _to scream?"

Qui-Gon grasped beneath Obi-Wan's ear, his fingers tight around the slender Padawan braid. "_This _is your place. And it isn't like you to resort to such blatant insubordination. It is beneath you, Obi-Wan."

"It isn't beneath me to want to save your life, Master. It's my duty as an apprentice."

"Your first duty is to me, to my word." Qui-Gon corrected. A full minute passed, then, "And you were right to leave, when you finally did."

"How's that?" Obi-Wan's voice cracked.

The Master sighed. "Perhaps I began to sense what you did all along. And I wanted to steer you away from the threat."

Obi-Wan swallowed thickly. He was not prepared for that. "So you would've faced the threat alone? You would have sacrificed yourself?"

"You are not my child, Obi-Wan. I can't shirk my responsibilities to stay safe for your sake." Qui-Gon saw the painful evidence of dejection in Obi-Wan's eyes. He added softly, "I don't say this to hurt you."

It was a whisper of calm amid a torrent. One that didn't last long.

"Why did Krillian's rescue have to be _your _responsibility?!" Obi-Wan nearly screamed.

"Because he helped us. I could not with a clear conscience leave him there."

By this point, Obi-Wan was not responding to reason. In the weary, worry-blasted wound of his mind, the sharper jabs were what surfaced, what he heard and felt above all else. "But what if it were you among the corpses? What if I lost you because of HIM?!"

"We run the risk of death with every mission, Padawan. You know this."

Obi-Wan shook his head miserably, hair falling into his eyes. "But you shouldn't _run _toward your death! And not for someone like him!"

A split second after blurting that innermost feeling, Obi-Wan knew it was a mistake.

" 'Someone like him', Obi-Wan? What do you mean by that?"

Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut and sank to the ground. "He was part of the problem, Master. He was a dealer like the rest of him. And you were going to die for him…" His face fell into his hands. "But you refused to live for me. And you'll do it again. And again."

Qui-Gon watched his apprentice struggle for a moment, but his sympathy was undermined by the lingering exasperation. "It is the Jedi way."

"But you sent me back." Obi-Wan pointed out hoarsely. "If my place is at your side, then why did you do that?"

"I told you, Obi-Wan." The Master said as he started for the door. "We aren't equals."


End file.
